


place one hand on the wheel and hold mine with the other

by amarie_harms



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Love, M/M, Roadtrip, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28425102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarie_harms/pseuds/amarie_harms
Summary: Harry Styles wants to see everything life has to offer and commit it all to memory. Louis Tomlinson has seen enough and wants to forget it all. This will be a road trip neither of them expected.This is a work of fiction and is intended for entertainment purposes.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 2





	1. The Club

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently unedited! I'm going to work on getting all the chapters out before going back and editing. Hope you guys enjoy this first chapter!

Harry Styles is a man with a huge heart. Back in London, he was the kind of man children came up to when they lost their parents. He was the man that rescued kittens and gave them warm milk during a cold day. Despite his huge heart, Harry was the kind of man that kept to himself, blended in, and avoided confrontation whenever possible. He thought tonight would be no different.  
He was wrong.

 **March 31st, 2018. New York City.**  
Harry set his glass back down onto the bar table, a warming sensation spreading across his body. The air is filled with laughter, dance music, and a lot of smoke. Like, a lot. Too much. It makes Harry crinkle his nose in disgust, and he glances towards the source. There’s a group of 3 or 4 people sitting in a booth, laughing and blowing smoke into the air above them. He watches as the smoke spreads across the small club, watches as it makes his way into his own lungs, and Harry coughs as it invades his body.

He grabs at his beer on the bar table and chugs it quickly, trying to rid of the horrible feeling. Maybe coming to the club was a bad idea. He already had a slight headache from the long flight, and now the smoke entering his body hasn’t made it any better. Why would anyone fill their lungs with cancer anyway? The label is clearly on the packaging, and don’t most schools require some kind of drug abuse education? Maybe Harry should mention something to them, politely of course. He doesn’t want to be rude, though. But what if they don’t know how it’s affecting others? It might be good to educate them a bit, especially if they aren’t aware that others might not like the smoke.

Harry decides to treat himself to another beer before politely approaching the group. Harry observes the rest of the club half-heartedly, watching as large groups of people spend their time on the dance floor. The bass thuds loudly around the club, and lights flicker in rhythm to the music chosen by the DJ. Harry feels light as he stands up and makes his away across the club. The group with smoke hanging above them become clearer and more focused as he gets closer. He can almost make out some of their tattoos as he walks straight past the booth and into the toilets.

What was he even thinking? Confronting a random group of people in a city he’s been in a total of 5 hours. How smart. As if he thought he’d make any difference. He didn’t know anything about these people. What if they were murderers? Then what? It’s hard to see your living sister when you’re dead.

It doesn’t help that Harry’s never been great about confrontation. Even in primary school, when kids would yank at his curls and tease him, he never could stand up for himself. He just pulled his hoodie over his head and kept his head down, focused on his studies. Harry forces a hand through the same tangled curls and tries to fix the mess on top of his head.

Looking in the mirror, he can see his wide, bloodshot eyes mixed with fear and adrenaline. A warm chuckle bubbles up from his throat as he tries to imagine what the conversation would have looked like. Harry would have stuttered over the simplest words as they stared him down. Then, they would have laughed and mocked those same words before waving him off. He’d walk away feeling defeated and embarrassed.

Just as he’s imagining one of the guys blowing smoke in his face, a tattooed body walks stumbles into the bathroom. “Hey there, man,” the brown-eyed mate greets, approaching the sink to rinse his hands. There’s a large stain going down the front of his shirt, and the guy rubs at it profusely with a wet paper towel. Harry just stands there terrified but curious. “My girl spilled her drink all down the front of my shirt, but I imagine it’ll be okay for the night,” he laughs. “At least the shirts black. It’d be worse for you.”

Harry looks down at his white shirt and lets out an awkward laugh. He’s gotta say it. This guy is drunk, so maybe it’ll be alright? He’s always been one to stay out of trouble, to keep his mouth shut. Perhaps just this one time…

“You know those things will kill you,” he stumbles out. “The cigarettes, I mean..Not your girlfriend.”

Smooth.

He bits his lip, not daring to look back up at the drunken man. His hands fidget nervously, and he twirls one of his rings. He’s so busy focusing on not looking at the man that Harry doesn’t even notice that the guy is laughing. He’s hanging onto the sink and laughing. Not even mocking. Just laughing.

“Fuck man, you don’t confront people very often, do you?” He laughs out. “Your face is so fucking priceless, man. Shit.” Harry continues to stand there, staring at him through the mirror. Finally, Harry forces himself to nod before putting a poor resemblance of a smile onto his face. This was definitely not the response he was expecting.

“I’m Zayn Malik, by the way. Killer of self and those around me,” the man says, holding a freshly dried hand. Harry brings his hand forward, and Zayn grasps it firmly.

“I’m Harry…Styles. Harry Styles.”

“Harry, you’re great man. Come join my group for a drink or two.”

Harry nods quickly and follows Zayn back through the club to their booth. The smoking had cleared some, and it seems like the rest of the group started throwing back drinks instead. They look up as Zayn and him approach.

“This is m’ new mate, Harry. Don’t smoke around him or you’ll get a lecture,” Zayn chuckles out, sending a wink to Harry as they sit down. “Harry, this is my girl, Gigi. Wonderful but kinda clumsy when drunk. This here is Tyler and Clara, world’s 2nd best couple.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry about the smoke, we’ll take it outside from now on,” Tyler says, shaking his hand. “Good thing the owner didn’t catch us, who knows what might happen?” That sends a laugh across the table, and Harry manages a laugh as his nerves begin to settle.

A waiter approaches the table with another round of drinks, and Zayn gestures towards Harry before the waiter quietly slips away. Moments later, the waiter returns with a chilled glass of what Harry presumes to be scotch. Definitely scotch, and expensive, too. Harry determines after the first sip.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here, Harry,” Zayn questions, although it sounds more like a comment.

“Uh, yeah..I’m from England, actually. Just visiting for a few before heading to L.A. ‘m gonna go visit my sister, Gemma.”

“That’s pretty sick, I’ve been that way quite a bit. Lovely place, but too warm for me and G here.” Zayn gives a fond look towards Gigi, and Harry tips back the rest of his drink.  
Zayn then turns to Tyler and starts up a conversation about the recent UFC match. However, he still feels a pair of eyes on him and notices Gigi looking at him. “You’ve ever been to the U.S., Harry?” She questions.

“This is my first time, taking a bit of a vacation. Thought about stopping in New Orleans and maybe Vegas, too. I’ve always wanted to go gambling,” Harry shrugs. Gigi laughs and nods her head in agreement before whispering something in Zayn’s ear.

“Come with me to the bar, Harry. We’ll get ourselves another drink, and you can tell me more about this vacation.” Gigi tries to climb over Zayn and nearly knocks over his drink again before he helps her out. Harry watches Zayn give her a kiss on the cheek before following Gigi to the bar.

At the bar, Gigi orders them both a tequila shot with a simple, “hope you can handle your liquor” before throwing back the freshly poured shot. Before either of them know it, they’re on their fourth shot and acting like giggling fools.

“Have you even thought about how you’re going to get to these places, Harry?” Gigi teases after realizing Harry’s lack of itinerary. “Surely you’re not gonna pay that much for a rental car.”

“I dunno, I could always just fly?”

“Fly, fly, fly like a baby bird, little Harry!” she giggles, giving a light push to Harry. However, Harry was caught off-guard and falls to the sticky ground like a blundering fool.

“C’mon, Harry! Get your ass off the floor and let’s go dance!!” Gigi yells out, taking his hand and yanking him up before dragging him to the dance floor. As an unfamiliar pop song begins to blast through the speakers, Harry begins to feel the tequila settling into his system, mixing with his previous beers. The nerves have finally vanished, and for the first time in weeks, he’s actually having fun. No worrying about the future. No overthinking his every move. No analyzing every action or word..Just fun.

Zayn and the others soon join the outrageous dancing Gigi and him are doing, and Harry observes as Zayn slips his arm around Gigi’s waist. He watches as Zayn and Gigi whisper and giggle into each other’s ears, he watches as Clara leans her head on Tyler’s shoulder and slow dances, despite it not even being a slow song, and Harry begins to notice that he’s the only single one.

The bar seems like a single-friendly place, so Harry excuses himself to get another drink and sit for a bit. At the bar, he sits next to another man who is waiting impatiently, strumming his fingers against the top.

The bartender approaches Harry first, a grimace plastered to his face and sweat beading on his forehead. “What can I get for you, man?” The bartender asks, setting a clean place out on the table. Before Harry has the chance to respond, the man next to him shoves himself away from the table.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, mate!” He shouts, flipping off the bartender before storming off. The bartender rolls his eyes and looks expectantly at Harry.

“Yeah…erm..my drink..I’ll have, uh, another shot of tequila…please,” he mumbles out, eyes still following the strange man.

“Don’t mind that asshole,” the bartender mutters. He poured the shot and passed it to Harry. “He comes in every night, forgets his own name, and leaves a mess we’re all expected to clean up just because he tips well and his buddy owns this place. I have half a mind to qui-“

He cuts himself off just as Harry feels a hand slide around his waist and a body lean against his side. He can still smell the lingering cigarette scent mixed with the spilled booze.

“I’d be pretty careful about finishing that sentence, dear Jimmy. The owner might take your threats seriously one day,” Zayn comments with a wink. Jimmy sets out another shot glass before filling it and sliding the glass across the table.

“Might be a good thing, find me a better paying gig. Unless you feel like paying me a bit more…” Jimmy suggests with a raised brow. Zayn just throws his head back and laughs before clapping Harry on the shoulder and following after his angry friend, shot glass abandoned on the table.

Harry quickly throws the shot back to relieve the feeling of unease settling into his bones. He wants to question Jimmy further about Zayn, but he seems to be busy with other customers. Perhaps he can find Gigi on the dance floor again and ask about him. When Harry stands, he feels uneasy on his feet and grips onto the counter for balance.

Looking around the club, he sees it in a different light. This is _Zayn’s_ club, not just any random club. And of course, of all the people he could have confronted, it had to be _Zayn_. _Zayn_ could have kicked him out of _his_ club for that comment. Probably could have had _his employees_ beat him up for it. This is why he doesn’t confront people. This is why he just needs to keep to himself.

He stumbles across the dance floor before his eyes meet Gigi’s. A slow song begins to play, and Harry provocatively gestures for a dance before locking arms with Gigi and swaying.

“You could’ve told me Zayn owns this club,” he yells out above the music. Gigi stares up at him in amusement and rolls her eyes.

“And have you shrink back into a scaredy cat before I could get you on the dance floor? No freaking way. You’re too much fun,” she comments, leading Harry into a dramatic spin.

“You only like me because I’m drunk. You don’t know boring, Harry Edward Styles,” he laughs, dipping Gigi before twirling her.

“Yeah, you’re right. This is probably the most impulsive thing you’ve done in your entire life, isn’t it?”

The music turns more upbeat, but Gigi and Harry continue their slow sway, fingers locked. “It is really is,” Harry murmurs, suddenly feeling sober and a little sick. “I’m just flying by the seat of my pants right now.

“Oh, Harry,” Gigi coos. They’ve stopped slow dancing and now are just standing in the middle of the dance floor looking at each other. “Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

Harry can only nod, fear and worry now bubbling in his stomach. He didn’t think any of this through. Here he is, in a foreign country, with no plan in place on how he’s supposed to get to Los Angeles. His sister doesn’t even know he plans on visiting yet. All Harry knew was that he wanted to take in as much as he can.

A waiter brings over a glass of water to the table as Gigi and Harry settle into the booth. Harry takes a sip and lays down in the booth. His headache from earlier is now even more prominent as the bass continues to thud rapidly. Gigi slides next to him and caresses his head calmly.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Harry. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. Let’s just get you feeling a bit better, okay?” Gigi whispers. Harry lays there for awhile longer and sitting up with the help of his new friend.

“My head just hurts pretty bad, I think I might head back to the hotel,” he states, leaning his head on her shoulder. Gigi continues to rub his back as he sips from the water glass.

Thoughts of the next few weeks continue to race through his mind. He should probably call Gemma and let her know he’s in the country. She could meet him in Vegas. They could spend the weekend together before heading back to her home in Los Angeles. But there’s still so much of the country he’d be missing. There’s 50 states, and he’d only be seeing 3 of them during his time. Surely, Gemma couldn’t take that many days off work to travel to each one. He’ll just have to settle on the states he does get to see and cherish his time with his big sister.

“I had one of the employees call a taxi for you, H,” Gigi says, rubbing his back. Harry opens his eyes and smiles at her in appreciation.

“Thanks, G,” he says. Gigi helps him up and walks him to the door where Zayn is waiting.

“Let me see your phone quick. I’m gonna put my number in it and have you call me when you’re back in your room safe,” Zayn comments, reaching out his hand. Harry passes him the phone before turning to Gigi.

“Let us know if you need anything, alright Harry? We’re always here.” She brings him into a tight embrace and holds him for a few. Harry feels like crying in response to the love of his newfound friends.

“I just have so much to see and not enough time..Never enough time,” Harry mutters before pulling away. Tears are threatening to spill over, and his head is pounding.

“I know, Harry. I know.” Gigi whispers. Zayn hands Harry’s phone back before helping him into the waiting taxi. The taxi is small and smells of sweat, but the cushion is soft, and Harry relaxes into it before muttering the hotel address to the driver.

The city lights shine into the window, colors blurring into one as the taxi speeds past billboard after billboard. Harry closes his eyes, and covers his eyes with his jacket. The world is too bright right now. Sleep. He just needs sleep. Everything else can wait until the morning.

Time must have slipped by because soon enough, Harry is being woken by the taxi coming to an abrupt stop. His eyes focus on the sign outside his window and recognizes the hotel logo. Harry hurries to grab some cash from his pockets to pay the driver, but the driver waves him off.

“Mr. Malik covered the fees, don’t worry. He also told me to remind you to call him when you get upstairs, yeah?” The driver states. Harry nods quickly, maybe too quickly for his headache, before exiting the vehicle and heading into the hotel.

Harry stumbles his way to his room and falls onto the bed without even turning on the light. He halfheartedly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, cringing at the bright light shining into his face. Luckily Zayn’s number was already pulled up when he opened his phone, and he brings it up to his ear.

“Styles! You back in your room, alright?” Zayn’s voice echoes through the speaker, music still blaring in the background.

“Mhmm..yeah..I’m fine,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“Great, Gigi and I are glad to hear that. Listen, before you pass out, G was telling me that you were wanting to see some of the sta……I consider you a right friend of mine, and I gotta take care of my… Atlanta, Nashville, New Orleans, Phoenix, Veg… nearly 8 years, his fath….a stranger in a new country, and I don’t want you traveling alon….dnight, Harry!”

Harry fades in and out of consciousness before he finally hears Zayn hang up and the phone lighting up before going black again. He takes a deep breath and lets the phone fall beside his head as he settles into a deep sleep.


	2. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I really suck at updating. Blame college.
> 
> I'm going to try to make my chapters a bit longer from here on out, and maybe be more consistent with updating lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**March 31st ( _Technically,_ April 1st). New York City. **

Zayn Malik waits patiently near his cell phone at the club while Gigi leans against his arm, too tired to even function this late at night. It was near closing time, and the last of the crowd slowly makes their way out the doors. The music blares through the speakers, and the lights still flicker rapidly, but the rest of the club indicates the night coming to an end. Bartenders begin putting their drinks away and wipe down the counter tops. Waiters and waitressed clean off the tables and stack the chairs. Zayn notes that the floors need a good scrubbing down and decides to give the professional cleaning crew a call tomorrow.

“Do you think he got back to the hotel, alright?” Gigi murmurs. She’s staring at the cell phone sitting on the counter, and Zayn shrugs before running a hand across her back.

“Hard to tell, G, but I sure hope so. He seems so lost, so unsure of his next steps. I know we just met tonight, but something about Harry reminds me of where I was years ago. I wish there was more I could do to help, you know?”

Gigi observes him for a moment before looking away in thought. “You know..” She starts. “He told me that he likes to travel and see new cities. I’m sure he’d like to see more than just New York and L.A…”

“What are you getting at, babe?” Zayn pulls away from Gigi to look at her, curiosity flashing across his sobered eyes.

“Well…didn’t you say that Louis was making personal visits to his banks? And you _know_ he’s deathly afraid of flying…” Gigi implies, waiting for Zayn to get the hint. Zayn stares into her eyes a moment before realization dawns on his face. He pulls Gigi back into his arms and sways to the music beginning to fade into the background. He plants a wet, sloppy kiss to her cheeks, only pulling back after hearing the beautiful giggles escaping her mouth.

“G, you are an absolute genius, my love! Let me borrow your phone qui, will you? I gotta keep mine open for when Harry rings.” Gigi passes him her phone, and he admires her background picture for a moment before unlocking it and opening the contacts. Pressing the call button, he brings the phone up to his ear.

Three rings. That’s all it took to hear the familiar greeting from his dear friend. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Tommo! You little fucker!” Zayn greets, a smile plastered to his face. “Remember all those drinks you’ve never paid for? Courtesy of yours truly? Well, they weren’t that cheap. _And_ I seem to remember a few incidents with the police that I’ve had to take care of. You, my friend, owe me, and I’ve got the perfect way for you to pay me back…”

**April 1st. New York City.**

Harry Style did not get hangovers. He was the responsible one. He took care of other people as they threw up last night’s drinks in the toilet. He was the one to wet down a washcloth and clean up the messed. He mopped and vacuumed and lit candles to cover up the smell. So, why on Earth, did he wake up at 7am feeling as if somebody lit his stomach on fire? Why did he feel like somebody split his head into two? Why did he narrowly miss the toilet bowl after tripping over his discarded bags in the darkened hotel room?

Thirty minutes after collapsing near the toilet bowl, Harry sits with his face leaned against the cold, tile walls. At least the floor is clean, better than some hotels he’s stayed at previously. Harry manages to stand up slowly, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He strips off the sweat-stained clothing that reminds him too much of all the booze he consumed last night before stepping into the shower. He can’t believe he let himself drink that much, and he definitely cannot believe he starting mixing drinks. He _is,_ however, grateful for having met Zayn and Gigi. They were proper fun, showing him a good time last night. It’s the most fun he’s had in months, even though he’s currently paying for it. He’s surprised he even made it home in one pie-

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Last night. Harry Styles was the kind of man to clean up after others, and the one time he lets himself have a bit of fun, it was _him_ that needed to be taken care of. His new friends mopped up the mess. _They_ picked him up, _they_ called him a cab, _they_ made sure he got home alright. Did he at least manage to give them a call, let them know he got back okay? Was he at least capable of doing that?

He wraps a towel around his waist before stepping out of the shower and walking over to his forgotten phone. Luckily it’s still at 17%, and there’s a few texts waiting for him from a couple of mates. Harry sends a few quick responses before noticing a message from Zayn.

_Hey! Hope you’re still alive and didn’t choke on your own vomit haha. From the way you sounded on the phone last night, I imagine this morning must be hell for ya. Gimme a call when you’re functioning, and we’ll grab a bite! Z_

Harry sighs a breath of relief. So he _had_ managed to call them in his drunken state. Well, that’s something. He takes a seat on the bed and types a response.

_All is good now, send me an address, and I’ll meet you there! H x_

Zayn responds immediately with the address to some family-ran deer and a time to meet. Harry plugs in his phone before picking out some clothes. According to Google Maps, it was only about a 15 minutes walk, and he had about 20 minutes before he needed to leave….Better make that 15, just to be early. Harry always tries to be early.

15 minutes later, Harry is dressed, and his phone is charged to about 30%. That will have to be enough for now. He slips on some shoes and heads out to the main lobby. With Google maps open on his phone, Harry makes his way to the restaurant. The New York City streets aren’t as crowded with people on this Sunday morning, much to Harry’s luck. He’s not sure if he could even manage breakfast, let alone be jostled by impatient people trying to live their lives.

The restaurant is nearly empty but warm when Harry Styles enters 10 minutes later. The sign at the front said to seat themselves, so Harry grabs a nearby booth and settles down. A waitress approaches him with a glass of water and a menu. Harry informs her of his expected company, and she comes back less than a minute later with two more menus and a glass of water for each of them.

He’s halfway through the menu when he notices two figures sliding into the booth across from him. They look even better than they had in the club. Absolutely flawless, even.

Morning, Harry!” Gigi greets. She immediately picks up the menu and starts to look through it.

“Man, I gotta admit. I thought you’d still be in bed right now. Could barely understand you over the phone last night, man,” Zayn teases, also picking up his menu.

“Mate, I was tempted…Was really, _really_ tempted. But…I’ve always been a morning person, you know?” Harry’s eyes scan over the omelette options as he says that. However, the waffles on the other side of the page sound even more appetizing. Maybe some strawberries on the top? Or would blueberries be better? Strawberries…or blueber-

“Harry, I still can’t believe you had the guts to approach me in that bathroom last night, man. I’ve never had a stranger approach me in my own club and give me a lecture about my smoking habits,” Zayn comments, pulling Harry away from his fruit debate. He’ll probably go for strawberries, anyway.

“I wouldn’t call it a _lecture._ I was trying not to shit my bloody pants the entire time,” Harry laughs, setting his menu down. Strawberries it is.

“Oh, come _on_! I can’t be that scary!” The three of them laugh as the waitress comes up to take their orders. Vegetable omelette for Gigi and a stack of pancakes for Zayn. Waffles for Harry, with strawberries.

“You’re good company, H,” Gigi says once the waitress puts their order in. “Let’s talk about your travel plans for tomorrow.”

“Wait..tomorrow?? I don’t plan on leaving tomorrow..”

Gigi furrows her brow. “Well that’s when Louis is leaving, so I’d suggest you start pac-“

“Who’s Louis?”

Zayn speaks up then. “My mate? The one driving to L.A.? I explained last night on the phone, don’t you remember?”

Harry sits up in his seat, eyes wide. He shakes his head, remembering nothing of the conversation. Did he agree to travel with this man? A complete stranger, nonetheless. And what would be the point of it? He wants to _see_ the states, not just travel through them. If that were the case, he’d be better off flying instead.

“Ah, makes sense. You were wasted, man.” Harry shrugs and takes another sip of his water. It’s true.

“Wasted enough to agree to traveling with some stranger, I guess. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass on that one.

“Aww, c’mon, man. I know you didn’t have the best first impression, but he’s an alright lad! Plus, you’ll get to see some pretty neat cities and spend a day or two in them. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Harry thinks on this for a moment and bites his lip. Maybe..”Plus G won’t let you leave without a clear conscience that you won’t be murdered by traveling alone.”

Gigi sends Harry a small smile at that comment. “He’s going through these cities anyway for business and has a reliable car. You wouldn’t have to worry about flying or renting a car.”

Harry sits in silence, thinking. Luckily, the waitress appears with their meals, and he’s able to occupy his mouth with the delicious waffles. The strawberries were sliced perfectly and decorated the top. Is he crazy for considering this offer? He barely even knows them, let alone this Louis person. But…it’s such a great opportunity, and he’d be a fool to give it up…Fuck it. Why not?

Halfway through his waffles, Harry’s mind is made up. “Alright, you have me convinced. Tell me about this Louis guy. How do you know he’s not a murderer?” Zayn and Gigi laugh in response, both working their way through their meal.

“Z has known Louis for..what? 8 years now?” Zayn nods, mid-bite. “Ran into each other at a pub. It was Louis’ father that gave Z a loan to start up the club. He passed just last year, liver cancer. He was a mean man, but he loved his banking business and knew how to make a mean deal. Louis took over his father’s business after he died.”

Before Harry could say something, Zayn spoke up instead. “He’s not the best company to be around. He can be mean and nasty and downright selfish at times. Deep down, though, he’s genuinely a good guy. He takes care of the people he loves. He helped me through a couple rough patches. We look after each other, you know?” Harry nods in understanding.

The waitress comes up to pick up their empty plates and places the check on the table. Before Harry could even look at the bill, Zayn swipes it up and goes to pay at the counter. Gigi continues to observe Harry’s reactions. “He’s not bad, Harry, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s just had a rough life.”

Harry shakes his head and lifts his glass to his lips. “It’s not that. We’ve all been through our own kinds of..trauma. Our own kinds of problems. I think it’ll be alright. You said he’s going for business, so I probably won’t be spending that much time with him. It’ll be nice to explore some new places while I’m here…in the States, I mean.”

“That’s the spirit! I’m not sure every stop Louis plans on making, but I know he has some businesses in Atlanta, Dallas, _Vegas,_ ” Gigi sends a wink. “and other cities I’m not sure of.”

“If he’s as mean as you say, how did you even manage to convince him to make room for me?” Harry exclaims. This is really starting to sound too good to be true, but Harry’s on-board now so there’s no going back.

“Let’s just say he’s enjoyed enough free drinks in my club, _and_ I’ve bailed him out of enough situation that he might owe me this tiny favor. He’ll be on his best behavior, promise,” Zayn comments while approaching the able. Gigi and Harry stand up to join him, grabbing their jackets and heading outside.

“Alright, is this the point where you guys say April fool’s and admit it was all a lie?” Harry jokes, zipping his jacket up in defense to the cold wind.

“Oh, most _definitely._ April fool’s,” Gigi admits with a dry tone, giving him a light shove. “He’s leaving promptly at 7pm from his apartment tomorrow, so don’t be late. He hates late people more than anything else, I swear.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Z. And thank you both for taking such good care of me these last two days and looking out for me. I’ve been blessed to meet people as great as you two,” Harry says, bringing the lovely couple into a tight hug. He doesn’t know how else to show his appreciation, and he definitely doesn’t know how he’s ever going to pay them back.

“We’ll text you the address to his apartment, and remember…7pm. Don’t be late. And don’t be a stranger if you find yourself in New York again,” Zayn says, pulling away. They begin to separate from each other, slowly going their separate ways.

“Of course,” Harry promises.

“ _And_ we want phone calls and updates,” Gigi says.

“Yes, G. Promise.”

“ _And_ you better let us know if he’s being an ass,” Zayn demands.

“Obviously, Z. We’ll be alright.”

“Safe travels!”

“Thank you, take care.”

And with one final wave, they’re heading in separate directions. Harry spends his walk avoiding people selling CDs on the street and wondering what the next couple of weeks have in store for him. He has always been the one to plan trips to the very last mile, but now here he is…taking a leap. How…exhilarating.

**April 2nd. New York City.**

Harry Styles was running late. Crazy late. It was 6:50, and people stared him down as he ran down the street. Sweat dripped down his forehead, too warm with his winter jacket in the 7C weather. He should’ve just taken a taxi, should’ve left earlier, should’ve just rented his own car to travel across the country. But Zayn and Gigi were too kind, and they almost seemed like the kind of people who don’t take no for an answer, either. Harry Styles was running late, and while running down the street, he realizes that he was beginning to develop a horrible headache. Great.

The sun was beginning to set, and Harry watched as business begin turning on their lights. It illuminates the street signs, the same ones Harry now studies intensely, making sure he is on the right street. Hypothetically, it should be easy to follow the streets, but Harry still feels as lost as the first day he stepped off the plane. He’s so focused on the streets that he doesn’t even realize his footing slip off of the edge of the sidewalk, resulting in him falling face-first into the street. He releases his duffle bag, lets go of the grip on his suitcase, and braces himself for the impact.

But…the impact never comes. He never feels his hands get torn from the rough street. He never feels the ground bruise his knees and rip his worn-out jeans. Instead, Harry feels warmth. He feels hands gripping him tightly, catching his fall. Harry relaxes into this embrace, body quickly moving past the adrenaline. However, he doesn’t have much time to relax before being roughly pushed back onto his feet.

“Hi.”

Harry jumps at the coldness of this voice, stepping backwards in response and tripping over the sidewalk. Again. This time, however, there isn’t someone to catch his fall, so he feels the impact just as he first imagined. His hands catch most of the fall, but unfortunately his bottom takes most of the impact, the cold ground seeping through the fabric of his jeans.

“Oops,” Harry stutters, looking up at the source of the voice. The man in front of him stands tall, brown hair brushing in front of his eyes. Blue eyes, maybe? Harry couldn’t see from his exact angle, but what he _could_ see is the angry expression written all over this guy’s face.

“Jesus fucking Christ, mate. You’re clumsier than any other bloke I’d ever met. You’d think you’d know ‘ow to use those giraffe legs,” the man spits out before Harry has a chance to say anything. “Fucking ‘ell, and get that pitiful look off your face. You’re fine, and I don’t have time for this.” The man walks around the vehicle behind him, grabbing a lone suitcase from the sidewalk and stuffing it in his backseat. Harry, however, just sits there dumbfounded. Dumbfounded at what just happened and definitely dumbfounded as to how someone could be that rude.

Harry brushes his pants off before standing up and collecting his bags. According to his watch, it’s not 7:01pm. To add to his misery, that Louis bloke probably left already, and now he’ll have to find a freaking rental car. Maybe if he hurries up, he can catch Louis. Harry didn’t think he was that far from where Louis lived. Actually…he should be pretty close…

Harry checks the street signs, and realization dawns on his face before looking at the man loading his vehicle, a cigarette now resting between his lips. Holy shit. _That’s_ Louis. That’s the bloke he’s going to have to spend the next week or so with. Well…fuck.

Harry clears his throat and approaches the vehicle. “Uh, thanks for catching me, mate. My mum used to say that I was kind of a klutz, guess not much has changed.” Harry mumbles those last few words, kicking his feet and looking at the ground.

“That’s not _my_ problem,” Louis retorts, rolling his eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta ‘ead out.” Louis aggressively shuts the trunk before walking over to the driver’s door and looking down the street, almost as if searching for someone. “Fucking can’t believe that wanker didn’t even show up,” he mutters before opening the door.

“Wait!” Harry shouts, leaping towards the car. Louis looks back at him with raised eyebrows.

“What, mate?! Need someone to stable those lanky giraffe legs again? Someone to carry your bags for you? Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not really my thing.”

“I-, I’m Harry. Styles. Harry Styles, I mean,” he stumbles, cheeks red from the confrontation. “And you mu-, you must be Louis. I’m so sorry I’m late. It was farther than I thoug-“

“Fucking 'ell, mate. I don’t care. Just put your bags in the car and get in. I ‘aven’t got all day.”


End file.
